


For Science and Diplomacy

by naughty_sock



Category: Original Work
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awkwardness, First Contact, M/M, Sex For No Diplomatic Reason Whatsoever, Sex For Slightly Less Diplomatic Reasons, Stripping For Diplomatic Reasons, Tongues, Xeno, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 11:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughty_sock/pseuds/naughty_sock
Summary: His fingers swiped frantically across the screen until he located the appropriate file."Okay, okay, okay. Here we go. First contact with an alien species. Rule Number One: Stay calm.Stay calm?" he exclaimed, his voice rising. "Are you kidding me? There's analienwalking around in the shuttle bay!"





	For Science and Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spokenitalics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spokenitalics/gifts).



For someone who preferred solitude to the hustle and bustle of the more prominent spaceports along the galaxy's interstellar trade routes, being assigned to the Gum Nebula monitoring station was a dream come true – at least, as far as Nigel was concerned.

Small and fully automated, it only required a single technician to maintain, and had the earth-based Alliance of Territories not stipulated that a human presence be upheld on any outpost farther than one hundred parsecs from earth, Nigel's employers would have happily replaced him with a droid. After all, their maintenance was far cheaper than that of a living and breathing human being, who needed water, food, and sleep, and required a certain amount of daily stimulation in order preserve their mental health.

However, so far any attempt to overturn the law had failed, and so Nigel eagerly accepted the offer of a two-year posting. And even though it was only after he'd signed the contract that he was told that, should he ever make contact with an alien species, it would fall to him to serve as an ambassador for the human race until an official envoy could be dispatched, Nigel took the information in stride.

After all, humans had been searching the galaxy for signs of intelligent life for centuries and nothing had ever come of it.

Why should it be any different for him?

Still, he dutifully attended his classes, jotted down notes, and stored the diplomatic protocols to the datatab he was permitted to take with him, before filling the remaining space with technical manuals, novels, games, and as much porn as he could download from the holonet without triggering a governmental data review.

The Gum Nebula Station, where he was dropped off a weak later, consisted of a circular corridor, which slowly rotated around its own axis, and about a dozen data labs, server rooms, and crew quarters, as well as a maintenance and cargo bay lining its circumference. Though the crew quarters could accommodate up to twenty people, Nigel had been assured that visitors were rare this far away from the main travel hubs and that he was welcome to choose whichever room he liked.

Seeing as all of them were identical, the choice wasn't exactly difficult.

Nigel had been a quiet child. The youngest of four, he'd grown up on Alpha Centauri's largest spaceport, an overcrowded relic of humanities first forays into interstellar travel that should have been dismantled and rebuild to accommodate its population's burgeoning size centuries ago. Instead, it was continually patched up and added to whenever someone with support and influence started complaining loud enough – an eternal fixer-upper, which nevertheless attracted tourists and merchants from all over the galaxy.

Always a little too tall and a little too lanky for his age, Nigel had preferred to hide away in small and quiet spaces, where he could read and study or dream of open skies and far away planets in peace. As time had passed and he'd grown even taller and the station had become even more crowded, those places had become harder to find. In an environment where thousands of voices congealed into a solid wall of sound, where the heavy footfall of boots on metal corridors, the mechanical hiss and click and beep and rumble of countless machines and apparatuses permeated every minute of his life, Nigel never felt as if adding his own voice to the cacophony would serve any purpose.

His parents had claimed that he was shy. His teachers had called him taciturn.

To Nigel, silence had been a comfort, even if that silence was only his own.

A monitoring station wasn't the same as a cabin on the shores of a remote mountain lake, which had become his go-to fantasy whenever the incessant noise at home felt as if it was drilling itself through his eardrums straight into his brain, but it was a start. Though the job was boring, very few people wanted to be this far away from the populated regions of space, which was why it paid well. And after his two years were up, he would leave this post with a tidy sum in his bank account; enough to find a home planet-side.

He hadn't decided yet, in which solar system he wanted to stay, but he had two years of nothing but spare time to make a decision.

 

* * *

 

Three months after he arrived, Nigel realized that he was talking to himself while he was signing off on the daily data collection he had to send back to headquarters.

Startled by the sound of his own voice, he straightened from where he'd been hunched over the console, and scratched a spot behind his ear.

"Well, that's weird," he said. Out loud. _Again._

He clapped a hand to his mouth, then realized that the gesture was completely ridiculous. His aborted snort turned into a laugh.

"I can talk to myself if I want to," he said very deliberately. Feeling slightly reckless, he spread his arms wide and shrugged up at the security camera above the data lab's entrance door. "Who is going to judge me?"

It was unlikely that anyone would actually look at the footage, right? Hundreds of hours of him, working, reading, eating, masturbating, and sleeping couldn't possibly be of any interest to anyone, could they?

He dropped his arms when he felt heat creeping up his neck. For some reason, he felt more embarrassed at the idea of someone seeing him talk to himself than watching him jerk off in the shower. He couldn't explain why one felt more daring, outrageous – downright _indecen_ _t_ _–_ than the other, but that's how he felt.

Though he turned back to the console and finished his data review in silence, Nigel started talking to himself more and more often. Whether it was cursing at the malfunctioning magnetic coil he had to replace by wriggling his tall body into a tiny crawlspace, or cheering himself on whenever he added an extra lap to his morning run in the station's main corridor, talking to himself quickly became a habit, and a tiny little thrill of excitement shivered up his spine when he realized that, after years of monosyllabic conversations, he actually rather liked the sound of his own voice.

By the time, Nigel had spent a year at the Gum Nebula Station, he was used to giving a running commentary on his own life, richly embellished and getting more fantastic the longer he remained isolated. He imagined himself opposite an interviewer who was hanging onto his every word as Nigel recounted scintillating adventures in which he, a mere technician on a tiny space station, had made first contact with an alien species, had gracefully navigated the pitfalls of diplomacy, single-handedly brokered trade agreements, saved both humanity and the galaxy at large from natural disasters or interstellar wars.

But even in his wildest dreams and tallest tales, he would never have imagined that he would be pressing himself awkwardly against the wall of his quarters four months later, while an actual, honest-to-god, alien ran its tongue along the underside of his cock.

 

* * *

 

 

On that day, Nigel jerked awake to the screeching whine of a proximity alarm going off.

He'd taken to sleeping in the nude about four months after he'd settled in, and when he threw back the blanket, cool air hit him like a bucket of water. Sleep-drunk and uncoordinated, he jumped off his cot while his legs were still tangled in his blanket and face planted it on the cold, barren stretch of floor that separated his bed from the security console on the other side of the room.

"Fuck. Well done, mate. What a way to start the morning."

Kicking the blanket off, Nigel stumbled to his feet and lurched forward until he caught himself with outstretched hands on the edge of the console. His long brown hair, which was in desperate need of a trim, fell into his eyes, and he impatiently tugged it behind his ears when his gaze snagged at an image of the station's exterior, where a ship was waiting for the shuttle bay doors to finish their lumbering opening procedure.

"What the hell is that?" Leaning closer to the monitor, Nigel raked his brain for any schematics in the database that matched the sight before his eyes.

The ship's arrival was unscheduled, of that much he was sure. The next supply ship wasn't due to arrive for another month, and as the Gum Nebula station belonged to a corporation and did not function as a public travel port, visits were by appointment only and had to be cleared with HQ beforehand.

And then there was the ship itself. Sleek and roughly leaf-shaped, it seemed to shimmer, its seemingly iridescent hue shifting from green to purple with the rhythm of Nigel's heartbeat, as if the ship itself was alive.

"Look at you," Nigel murmured quietly as he jabbed his finger onto the display to stop the alarm from its valiant attempt to burst his eardrums. "All sleek and glowing. I've never seen anything like you before."

When the shuttle bay doors were finally open, Nigel changed the camera view to the bay's interior and watched the ship land next to the emergency transport that was intended for his own use. Belatedly, he realized that he was still buck-naked.

"Can't very well meet anyone like this, can I? Might cause a bit of a stir." Chuckling at his own joke, he rubbed his hands over his eyes and trod across the room to fish a pair of socks out of a drawer.

"Wouldn't want to get a bad performance review just because I wasn't properly dressed," he said while he slipped them onto his feet. "Though talking about performance issues," he continued sourly as he grasped his dick and bent it up towards his stomach. "What was that last night, huh? Pathetic is what that was. You should be ashamed of yourself. Going soft on me like that."

Releasing his penis with a dismissive huff, he reached for a loose pair of sweatpants. "Let's hope it was a one-time thing."

Pants in hand, he walked back to the console, curious about who would leave the ship, now that the bay was repressurized.

What he saw made him freeze in his tracks.

A – Nigel closed his eyes for a moment, unwilling to believe what his eyes were telling him – a giant, bipedal ...creature? ...person? ...being? disembarked from the space ship, and just like the ship itself, it... he? ...she? _They_ looked unlike anything that Nigel had ever seen before – or at least that was his first impression, before his brain emerged from its stupor and he was able to compare the image on the monitor with the data files on earth's native fauna which he'd studied at a point in school that seemed too distant to remember in much detail.

The alien – for that was what it must be – and Nigel's heart started hammering in his chest with the sudden surge of adrenalin that flooded his system – resembled a lizard, if lizards were six feet tall and dressed in clothes that vaguely resembled the space cadet uniforms Nigel had only ever seen in recruitment ads.

Upon reaching the end of the ramp, the lizard hesitated and turned their head from side to side, a long, forked tongue in shades of blue and purple flicking curiously at the air.

His breath shaking, Nigel all but jumped into the pants he was still clenching in his sweating palms and tore so harshly at the elastic at the top that the material tore along the seam.

He didn't care.

"Protocol. Protocol. Where is that damn protocol?" he hissed as he threw himself across the bed and started rummaging for his datatab on the other side of the floor.

It seemed to take him forever to find it amidst piles of dirty laundry (living in isolation had not done anything to improve his housekeeping skills) and the stained coffee mugs he'd forgotten to clean in the mess hall kitchen next door. When he, at last, perceived the tell-tale glint of black metal beneath a waded-up T-Shirt that he vaguely remembered using to wipe his own come off his chest after a particularly vigorous night of jerking off to his favorite holoporn, he cried out in triumph.

"Aha! There you are. Okay, I've got this. First Contact protocols. What do I need to do? Come on. Tell me. Come on."

His fingers swiped frantically across the screen until he located the appropriate file.

"Okay, okay, okay. Here we go. First contact with an alien species. Rule Number One: Stay calm. _Stay calm?_ " he exclaimed, his voice rising. "Are you kidding me? There's an _alien_ walking around in the shuttle bay!"

Though he tried to calm his breathing, Nigel felt as if an invisible force was wrapping itself around his heart and squeezing it persistently. His gaze flickered nervously back to the security monitor.

Seeing the shuttle bay empty, his blood froze in his veins.

He lurched to his feet and stumbled towards the console, his hand already reaching for the screen so he could rotate through every available camera feed from the docking bay.

The alien was gone.

Which meant they had left the docking bay. Which meant they were in the corridor – less than fifty feet away from him, separated by less than two inches of metal.

Possibly armed. Possibly hostile. Possibly dangerous.

He pulled up a different time index on the camera feed and watched as the alien headed towards the door. To his relief, he saw that their hands – as revealed by the ultra high definition camera – while covered in green and blue scales, with short yellow tinted black claws at their end, were empty.

The uniform they wore didn't really seem loose enough to hide a weapon either, though Nigel took little comfort from it. Weren't there some lizards on earth that were poisonous? What if this much larger cousin was as well? And though the claws were short, he had no wish to find himself on the receiving end of an attack from them.

While the company had provided Nigel with a weapon, he'd never actually thought he'd have to use it. He'd left it on the shuttle in which he'd arrived, thinking that in the unlikely case that the station would ever come under attack, he would hardly stand his ground and fight, but try to get as far away as possible, no matter how heroic his fantasies had been about saving the galaxy. He was neither fool nor soldier. He was a technician.

Pulling up the live feed from the main corridor, Nigel rapidly went through the different cameras until he found the alien again. They were standing in the middle of the hallway, their head tilted curiously to the side – or at least curiously as in so far as Nigel could apply human mannerisms to an alien species – loking at a locked door.

Their tongue did that unnerving flicking thing again, and Nigel watched with fascination as the green scales on their head changed color from their former deep forest shade to a shimmering aquamarine.

When the alien opened their mouth, a low trumpet sound pierced the air, and Nigel whirled around when he heard its echo through the door behind him.

"Oh my god," he whispered, his voice breaking off in a whimper. "It's outside my door."

His eyes searched frantically for a weapon, and after dismissing the idea of throwing coffee mugs at a giant lizard, his gaze fell back onto the datatab.

Rule Number Two: Contact HQ immediately.

"Right," he said. "Ask for help. I'm just going to... ask for help that's not going to arrive for another three days. Fuck. Fuck, fucking fuck. I am so screwed. I'm going to die, aren't I? Humanities first contact with an alien species, and I'm not going to survive it. Why did they have to pick this station? Why the fuck am I even here? And why am I talking out loud, when they can probably hear me?" He slapped the datatab against his forehead out of sheer frustration.

"Ow. Fuck."

The quiet beep of the door opening fell like a cannon shot into the ensuing silence.

Nigel's hand clenched around his datatab as he clutched it protectively against his chest.

The alien stood inside the open door. Transparent eyelids descended over their yellow pupils, and their blue tongue continued to dart back and forth, though it didn't extend far beyond their mouth, unlike it had done previously.

Nigel swallowed, though his mouth felt dry as the desert. He valiantly tried to force his facial muscles into a close-lipped smile while he tried to think of what to do next.

"Uhm... hello?" he finally hazarded.

Though the alien did not respond out loud, they tilted their head. Their second pair of eyelids blinked rapidly.

Nigel gritted his teeth and – datatap still clutched to his naked chest – took a single step forward.

"I– ah, I come in peace." In spite of his best efforts to make his voice sound firm and confident, he sounded as winded as if he'd just run a marathon.

"I mean, I actually I live here. Sort of. But I do it peacefully, and I hope you do as well. Come here, not live here, obviously. In– uhm, in fact, it would be really, really great if you did, because I don't want to die, and I don't really know what I'm doing or if you can understand me, but I only have a few months left on this job, and then I plan to settle on a nice planet with a lake and actual trees. I've never seen trees before, and I'm really, _really_ looking forward to it, sopleasedon'teatmeokay?"

He stopped babbling when he ran out of breath.

The alien continued to stare at him.

Getting desperate, Nigel pried the fingers one hand off the datatab and slowly lifted them into the air.

The alien's eyes followed the motion.

Though Nigel felt a chill run down his spine, sweat was beading on the curve of his brow as he turned his open palm towards the alien, and – calling on the memory of an ancient holo series, he'd watched as a child – spread his middle and ring finger apart. "Live long and prosper?" he tried in a tiny voice.

The longer the silence lasted the more oppressive it became, and Nigel realized just how far out of his depth he really was. "Oh, well. I guess that was a long shot. I don't suppose you know any Klingon? No? I took some classes in Chinese Mandarin if that's any–"

A loud trumpet sound from the alien interrupted him so suddenly that his whole body jerked. The datatab slipped out of his fingers and clattered to the ground.

"Did I make you angry? Oh god, I didn't mean to make you angry. I'm a nice person, I promise. I didn't mean any harm, I just wanted to– ?"

The alien raise their hand. Presenting their palm to Nigel, they mimicked the gesture of his greeting.

Nigel didn't quite know if he wanted to laugh or cry, but the air left his lungs in an explosive exhale only to fill him with a dazed kind of giddiness on the following breath.

"Oh my god, that is so– That is awesome. Just awesome. Vulcans for the win. Man, no one is going to believe this when I tell them. Does that mean we're friends, now? It does, right? We're good? We– oh, hey, hey that's not... uhm what are you doing?"

Without thinking, Nigel took a step forward as the alien looked down to undo the fastenings of their jacket and slip it off their shoulders.

When Nigel moved, their head snapped back upright, and Nigel froze in his tracks.

He hovered awkwardly in the middle of the room. "No, I mean, It's cool, if you want to. I was actually going to put a shirt on because I'm getting cold, but you do you. It's fine. Make yourself comfortable."

While he was babbling, the alien made a series of quiet, high-pitched sounds that came across as oddly soothing. They shrugged out of a black undershirt which was made out of a faintly iridescent material. When they stepped out of their boots, Nigel gawked at the thick, curved claws that were revealed.

The alien looked from their own feet to Nigel's socks, and it was only when they covered them with their discarded shirt that Nigel realized what they were doing.

"Oh, I see. You're trying to mimic me again. That's– ah that's cool. Yeah, trying to level the battle fiel– playing field, I mean. But you don't have to use your shirt, seriously. Let me just, uh, hold on. My socks are not going to fit you. I'm just going to– ah, fuck."

Nervous as he was, Nigel fumbled with the simple task of taking off his socks. He hopped awkwardly on one leg, like a stork that had dipped its beak too deep into a whiskey bottle. Eventually, he pulled off the last one and carelessly threw it across his shoulder. "There you go. We're both half-dressed and throwing around Vulcan greetings. Let's call that progress and never tell anyone about it."

The alien, who had watched his impromptu dance with avid attention, started emulating him again, hopping on one foot while they dug their claws into the fabric of their shirt before lifting their leg to transfer the shirt into their hand.

A laugh bubbled out of Nigel's throat before he could stop himself.

"No. No, you don't– Oh Jesus, HQ is going to have a fit when they watch that footage."

The absurdity of a lizard hopping around in front of him made him forget that he'd been afraid. He wasn't even particularly fazed when the lizard didn't stop after they'd thrown their shirt over their shoulder in much the same fashion as Nigel had done with his socks, and instead reached for the fastenings of their pants.

"Really?" Nigel asked. "We're going all the way here? I– okay, I suppose I– it's alright, I guess. Let's compare anatomy."

There was a moment of awkward deliberation as he took hold of his torn waistband, but the alien seemed unconcerned by any human notions of modesty and was already stepping out of their pants. Not wanting to cause offense, Nigel followed suit.

"Not that I actually remember much about that biology class on reptiles. It was ages ago. Sixth or seventh grade, I think, but I wouldn't even know if you're simply a larger version of the lizards on earth, or if there's any... any... okay... that's uh... I definitely don't remember that."

It wasn't the tail unfurling behind the creature that caught him off guard – though Nigel distractedly had to admit that the sight of the long, curling appendage did something rather strange to his insides that he did not care to examine too closely – but rather the protruding bulge below the curve of the lizard's stomach, where the scales of their abdomen shifted aside with a strangely fascinating rippling motion and the growing bulge revealed itself to be two short, but thick penises, arranged not side by side as with the hemipenes he vaguely remembered from class, but one in front of the other.

"You know, on earth, lizard dicks don't look like that,” Nigel said faintly. “They're usually covered in spikes and hooks if I remember correctly. Never understood the purpose of that, to be honest, but you know, to each their own."

Suddenly realizing that he was staring, he snapped his gaze back up to the lizard's face, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. His blush only deepened when he found the lizard studying his own groin with the same fascination that Nigel had displayed.

Nigel shifted uncomfortably. "Uh– Is– Is that enough? Can we put our clothes back... uh, okay, yeah you can... ah, you can come closer if you want to. I'll just– Now, wait a minute."

His voice rose precariously in pitch when the lizard suddenly dropped to all fours in front of Nigel. Their tongue swished through the air, the tip of it just grazing the length of Nigel's cock.

His hands coming around to cradle his dick, Nigel instinctively tried to cover himself. He stumbled backward with a shocked gasp but forgot that he hadn't stepped out of his sweatpants, yet. They were still pooled around his ankles, and his hurried movements made him lose his balance.

Arms windmilling through the air, he stumbled backward and crashed with his back against the wall next to the security console. While he braced his hands on the cold wall behind him, the lizard took advantage of his vulnerable position, surged towards him, and flicking their tongue along the inside of Nigel's thigh. The lizard made a sharp, low, rolling sound – somewhere between a yip and a purr – before he repeated the motion.

"Oh. Oh, that tickles. And... and... oh. Oh, dear."

He was a little surprised that there was any blood left to make his ears burn, seeing as all of it seemed to be rushing south, filling up his dick when the lizard's tongue lapped at the rapidly hardening length between his legs.

"That– fuck– that feels kinda nice, actually. I mean, it's– uh, it's still inappropriate, and I'm fairly sure I'm going to get fired for this but... oh, fuck, yes, do that again."

Sucking in a sharp breath, Nigel widened his stance, so the alien could explore him fully, their long, wet tongue flicking against the underside of his cock, nuzzling further until the forked tip brushed firmly against Nigel's testicles.

Nigel whimpered. His eyes fluttered closed after a particularly vigorous stroke that left the alien's tongue pressing against his perineum.

"Don't stop," he begged. His cock was fully erect by now, and precome beaded at the tip. "Don't stop. Please. Keep going. This is so much better than my hand. You wouldn't think that watching porn and jerking off would ever lose its appeal, but let me tell you after nearly a year and a half.... oh, god, yes, like that. A little– a little more pressure. You're so good. You're fucking amazing."

Tension built inside his abdomen, and his knees started to tremble. His hands were opening and closing, desperate to hold on to something, but he didn't dare touch the alien, didn't dare to move at all for fear of distracting the lizard and making them stop. His breath came in shallow pants, and he couldn't stop talking.

Praising and begging turned into a cacophony of meaningless sounds as the lizard's tongue gently lashed against his balls, pressed against the soft skin between them and his cock, and brushed along the thick, throbbing vein on the underside of his dick, until Nigel saw stars explode behind his eyelids.

Every muscle in his body grew tight and strained against the rising pleasure, and he hunched over with a gasp when a particular firm stroke sent him over the edge.

The lizard's head came up at his sudden movement, and Nigel's come hit them squarely in the face.

Nigel was mortified. "Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I am so very, very–"

The lizard's tongue swept across their face and licked up Nigel's come.

"–sorry?"

Nigel watched in befuddlement as the alien tilted their head and regarded him curiously. Their tongue came back out to wipe the last splash of come from underneath their right eye. The high pitched sound that fell from their mouth sounded distressingly pleased.

Nigel jumped when the lizard darted forward, their tongue lapping up the remaining drops of come on the tip of Nigel's cock.

"Aah, No, no, no."

Nigel finally found the nerve lay his hands on the lizard's face and push their head away. "There's isn't any more. At least not for a while. And I'm very sensitive right now, so you'll have to wait. You'll have to wa–" He trailed off, suddenly coming back to his senses.

 _You'll have to wait if you want to eat more of my come. That's what I was going to say. Out loud. In front of the security cameras,_ he thought with the sort of calm detachment that rode the edge of hysterical laughter. _As if it were a perfectly normal thing to do. I am the first human to make contact with an alien species, and the first thing I do is let them fuck me._

"I need to contact HQ," he finally said, still feeling a bit dazed.

The alien regarded him curiously as he stepped forward... and fell face first onto the ground for the second time that day.

Nigel groaned and gently headbutted the floor. He tried to kick off the sweatpants that still tangled around his legs when he suddenly felt the brush of warm scales against his legs. Turning his head, he found the aliens' hands beside his shoulder, and, craning his neck further, it became clear that the lizard now hovered above him, their tail swishing across Nigel's calves and their penises aligned with the curve of Nigel's ass.

While Nigel was still trying to wrap his mind around the dangerous? Precarious? Interesting? – he really couldn't make up his mind – position in which he was, the lizard made that same high-pitched sound again and lowered their hind legs until their lower penis slid through the cleft between Nigel's ass cheeks, leaving his skin dripping with a sticky, warm substance.

Nigel bit his lower lip, surprised that he had to stifle a moan.

The lizard repeated the motion, pressing down a little harder, a little further, the tip of their cock nudging the edge of Nigel's asshole, and this time Nigel couldn't stay quiet. It felt too good.

"Alright. Alright, I suppose that's only fair. Yeah, go... oh, oh god, yes.. go ahead then. That's fine. That's totally fiii... ii... ngh. Fuck."

He shifted and pulled his knees closer to his body in order to lift his butt, and the lizards' dick slid wetly into his body. They made a pleased, rumbling noise, which Nigel could feel reverberate throughout his entire body.

When he pressed his face back into the floor, his eyes fell onto the datatab he'd dropped earlier.

Reaching out, he pulled it close, and while the alien started to fuck him, his lower cock filling him deeply and stretching his ass, while the one on top slid wetly between his butt cheeks and covered his lower back with warm spurts of liquid, he quickly opened the emergency contact information.

Moaning as he was being fucked into the floor, Nigel barely had the wherewithal to type out a short message and send it.

Then he pushed the datatab aside and arched his back, allowing the lizard to fuck him deeper.

"Taking this job was the best decision I ever– oh god– ever made."

 

* * *

 

Several hours later, at HQ, the regional manager responsible for the company's deep space monitoring stations, sits down at his terminal, his morning coffee still steaming in his mug, and opens an incoming text message from the Gum Nebula Station.

_Made first contact with alien. Very friendly. Likes to fuck. (Don't judge me.) No need to hurry sending emissary._

He sighs.

"What is it?" his subordinate asks.

"Looks like another one of the solo postings caught a bout of space sickness. Claims he's fucking aliens."

"Oh, not again."

"I keep telling management that they need to shorten those assignments, but do they listen?"

A snort. "Of course not."

A nod. "Of course not. Oh, well. I'll file a 538, see that the next medical transport picks him up."

"Let's hope he doesn't walk out the airlock, like the last one."

"Don't remind me. The paperwork was a nightmare."

A pause.

"Are we talking about the Gum Nebula Station by any chance?"

"Yes. Why?"

"It's probably nothing, but we did receive some weird readings from there just now."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything. Just that the data is weird."

Another pause is followed by a heavy sigh. "Fine. Send it down for analysis, just in case. It's not as if I have better things to do than fill out more paperwork."

"Wouldn't it be cool, though? If it turned out that that technician is actually fucking an alien right now?"

"Keep your kinks out of my workplace, Trevor."

"Sorry, boss."

 

 

 


End file.
